Wild Bear, Chapter 5: Gorlock
by An Asteroid's Belt
Summary: Tjorborn was just a regular caravan guard with a tragic story. Losing his mother at an early age, and having a strict father has never been easy on him. But, now he's the Dragon Born? Huh. Join Tjorborn, Ja'liir, Miora, Gorlock, Norin and Floria on a quest to defeat Aludin, and save Nirn.


"Thank you for your consideration, Ulfric." Tjorborn said, bowing down to the Jarl. "Don't bow. I'm just a Nord, just like you, and your father." Ulfric said, looking at Tjorborns brown hair, and brown eyes. "Well, of you two go. Don't get killed. And Tjorborn, I'm sure your mother would be proud of you." Ulfric said, putting on a slight smile.

Tjorborn did not respond, and left, his father right behind him. "What was that?" Gerston asked, tugging on Tjorborn's shoulder plate. "I don't like to be reminded of… mother's death…" Tjorborn stated, looking down. "I miss Ria very much too, but we must move on. She was a great woman, and would be very proud of you, my boy." Gerston said, his hand on Tjorborn's shoulder.

"She's always with us. Guiding, and protecting us. You're a spitting image of her, pretty to look at, and an even better personality." Gerston said, now looking down. "Thank you, father. I must leave now, I hope we meet again." Tjorborn said, making his way to the gate, his father waving him off.

"Oh, one more thing, my boy!" Gerston shouted to Tjorborn, running to him. "We must get you some new armor. What you're wearing is not very protective." Gerston stated, pulling Tjorborn to the armory Gerston owned. Gerston fitted Tjorborn in a Sabre Cat hide, steel and leather mix of armor, and a new shiny axe.

"Father, are you sure you want me to use your war axe? Isn't it your most prized possession?" Tjorborn inquired, handing the axe back to Gerston. "No, my boy. I'm too old for battle anymore, so, you may have this axe. Take care of it though!" Gerston yelled, playfully, sending Tjorborn to the gates.

As Tjorborn left Windhelm, he sent his father a wave. The wave was returned by his father, and Tjorborn set off for the mountain Ja'liir and Miora were camping out behind. He crossed the bridge, and made his way to the mountain.

The mountain was in his sights, he was standing next to a burned down house. He decided to investigate the house, in search for survivors, because the house still smelled of smoke, indicating it was a new fire. As Tjorborn entered the house, he saw a male Orc, a wound in the man's left leg.

Tjorborn rushed over to the man and crouched down to him. "Are you alright?" Tjorborn asked, getting his healing potion from his satchel. "What does it look like!?" The obviously angry Orc spat out to Tjorborn. "Ok, hold still." Tjorborn said, and offered him the potion.

The Orc snatched the potion, and drank it down like he was a drunk and the potion was mead. His wound patched up, and he got up. "Oh Oblivion, here they come again!" the Orc shouted, pointing at a group of at least 12 bandits.

Tjorborn readied his axe, and his shield. The Orc had an Orcish Warhammer, and wielded it in his hands, sliding it off his back. One of the bandits entered the burned down house, and was obviously not hostile, having his sword sheathed, and almost looked drunk.

"I'm Kergar One-Eye, and this place is ours! Scram!" Kergar shouted, unsheathing his sword. The Orc raised his hammer, and struck the man's face, the skull crumbling into pieces. The other eleven bandits charged at the two men, but Tjorborn noticed something about them. They were all drunk. Every last one of them.

They all swung their swords around, and one hit another. The one that was hit had a large slash in his arm, and passed out on to the floor. The Orc raised his hammer again, smashing another bandit's head in. Tjorborn raised his shield, and bashed one of them with it, killing the bandit.

Tjorborn struck at four of the bandits, the axe killing them on impact. The Orc smashed and crushed as many as he could, killing three of them. There were now three bandits left, and they began to run. The Orc and Tjorborn sheathed their weapons, and shook hands.

"I'm Gorlock, from the tribe of Nzualgbur. I'm third son of the chieftain, and am almost experienced enough to face my father, and become the chieftain of Nzualgbur." The Orc stated, now releasing his hand from Tjorborn's shake. "I'm Tjorborn. Nice to meet you." Tjorborn stated, scratching his hand.

"You said you needed experience to over throw your father, and become the chieftain of your tribe?" Tjorborn asked, raising an eyebrow. "Yes. Why do you ask?" Gorlock inquired, crossing his arms. "Well, I've got a group that may be able to help you gain fighting experience." Tjorborn said, obviously offering Gorlock a chance to be in his party.

"I'm in. Where is your group?" Gorlock asked, a puzzled look on his face. "Just behind that mountain. They couldn't come into Windhelm because one's an Elf, and the other is a Khajiit." Tjorborn said, revealing their races. "Ok. Take me to them. Let's make haste." Tjorborn nodded his head, and they began to walk around the small mountain.

Tjorborn saw Ja'liir and Miora, they had made a small fire, and were starting to set up a fur tent, because night was closing in. "There they are. The khajiit is Ja'liir, and the Wood Elf is Miora." Tjorborn said, pointing at them , than walking to the fire and tent.

Gorlock stopped, and was staring at Miora. His jaw had dropped, his Orcish bottom teeth were now fully showing. "Come on." Tjorborn said, looking at Gorlock's green, pony-tailed hair and face. Horlock shook his head, and walked behind Tjorborn.

As they got closer to the tent, Gorlock kept getting more intrigued by Miora's beautiful face and features. He loved her light brown hair, her perfect eyes, and her perfectly pointed nose. Gorlock began to walk up to the fire, Miora and Ja'liir eying him. Gorlock's jaw was dropped, and he was staring into Miora's eyes. Miora had the same look, looking at Gorlcok in the eyes too.

The connection was obvious, but Ja'liir interrupted. "Oi, stop staring down each other. You're making Ja'liir uncomfortable." Ja'liir said, in a grumpy voice. They both stopped, and shook their heads, to snap out of each other's gaze.

"This is Gorlock, an experienced Orc. He may be able to help us." Tjorborn said, taking off his Sabre Cat head helmet, and laying it down on the tent floor. "Help with what?" Gorlock asked, still looking at Miora, as she was setting up a tent. "Well, you heard that roar right? That was a dragon." Tjorborn said.

"I saw the damn thing, and it was huge. I could combat it, though." Gorlock bragged, trying to impress Miora. Miora giggled, and went back to setting up the tent. "Hm. Ok then. Fighting a dragon would get you great experience in fighting, and you could possibly bring back its head, as proof that you killed one." Tjorborn stated, sharpening his father's axe.

"Yes. So you could count me in." Gorlock said, slouching back on the floor of one of the tents. The group began to sit around the fire, as night closed in. "So, story time anyone?" Tjorborn said, smiling.


End file.
